Archive of Our Own ^beta

Etho had always made him feel stranded whenever the topic of redstone came up. 

It really isn’t the isolating statement Bdubs pitches it as; it was hard to convince someone who’d already found their archetype to try and squeeze themselves into the boots of another. 

An adventurer would never look twice at the color wheel when they’re already two steps into the next biome over with a sword in hand. Nor would a builder think about PvP strategies when their inventory’s filled with blocks and Efficiency V tools alike. 

Heck, asking Bdubs to understand a comparator in addition mode versus subtraction mode would be like asking Etho the HSL of a tuff block; nothing more than an excuse to see panic flash in the other’s eyes before the accusations of them talking nonsense comes full swing. 

Though Etho has gotten insufferably good at the whole “HSL” thing. Bdubs blames it more on his inability to not tease Etho about it rather than Etho finding it useful in his day-to-day life. Otherwise the guy would’ve converted from RGB to HSL a long time ago. 

Like a long, long time ago considering the decade and a half they’ve known each other for- 

It takes a conscious effort to both smooth his previously pinched facial features and stop the thought in its tracks. He’s talking about redstone here; quality of life improvements can wait for when Etho’s attention isn’t divided by some stupid bug in his machinery. 

Later, he promises to himself, and finds it’s enough to calm the subtle itch that writhes beneath his skin. 

But much-needed tangents aside, he doubts the inevitable wave of confusion he’s come to associate with redstone chatter is one sided. Etho’s gotta feel the same whenever Bdubs bursts through his door rattling off complaints over textures and gradients. 

It’s their dynamic. Simple as that. One talks and the other listens, no matter how lost they may be in the conversation. 

As such, Bdubs has always felt stranded whenever the topic of redstone came up. 

...he’d just really hoped this time would be different. 

The distinct vibration of Etho’s voice buzzes pleasantly over the top of Bdubs’ head as he lays on one of the many couches Etho keeps around his base. This one in particular a deep red and poised across from an automatic brewing station. 

Fitting, Bdubs thinks it, with the wall’s color palette of stripped jungle and dark oak logs. The mangrove planks that peak out above the machine’s control panel maintains just enough red for the couch to fade into the darker tones of the build rather than become the focal point. 

But it isn’t how annoyingly well the interior blends together that solidifies this build into Bdubs’ list of “Top 5 Ethoslab Creations”. Instead, it’s the whole couch obsession this place has going on. 

A couch by the door. A couch by the stairs. A couch balanced precariously on the rafters above. And, of course, the one Bdubs has claimed as his own for the time being. 

This place wouldn’t feel half as home-y without their presence, even if that isn’t the justification Etho used for their purchasing. 

Yeah, Etho “I’m-So-Practical” Slab wouldn’t be caught dead buying or crafting something that didn’t serve him a purpose. That small tidbit of lore might as well have been written in the guy’s code. 

So instead, shoulders the height of mountains had shrugged every time Bdubs’ commented how it made his home comforting. And his face would pinch like he'd been told the funniest joke every time Bdubs claimed it was a ploy to get his favorite builder to spend more time here. 

But Bdubs knew their true purpose. He could tell in every fascinating placement that there was a story written there of where Etho found himself passing out the most. 

One by the door for long days spent terraforming in the heat. One by the stairs for the meticulous deconstruction and reconstruction of the floors. One in the rafters for the thousands of slabs and stairs he must’ve placed while building the roof. 

And, of course, the one Bdubs has claimed as his own for the time being. The one right across from the control panel of Etho's automatic brewing station. 

He doesn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt reaping the rewards of it all. 

With how long Etho’s legs are, it’s easy for Bdubs to lay on the couch as he would a bed and really let himself sink into the cushions. It’s even got its own relaxing scent to it that casts a hazy fog over his brain- the subtle yet distinct tinge of redstone whose sharpness Bdubs can only compare to the minty freshness of a York Pattie. 

...it’s not weird that he likes it. He’s seen plenty of pillow sprays use peppermint as a scent; liking a little redstone before he drifts off is less than a hop, skip, and a jump from that sort of thing. 

He lets his sudden burst of righteousness dull with a well-deserved yawn. Speaking of drifting off... 

Bdubs can’t help the lazy smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth when he burrows his face deeper into the couch cushions. He’s supposed to be, y’know, learning about redstone, but that had all gone down the drain the moment Etho’s demonstration of his brewing station went haywire. 

Though “haywire” is really putting it lightly. The whole thing had gone kaput at the first press of a button and filled at least two shulker boxes of water bottles by the time Etho could shut the darn thing off. 

Oh, Bdubs had let himself revel in the minute that followed of rare, unmistakable shock that’d overtaken Etho’s face. He couldn’t not- in all the years he’s known Etho, the guy's rarely had an emotion that wasn’t a shade off from smugness or satisfaction. 

Seeing Etho in shock was like seeing a warden in the Nether. It only ever happened at the hands of a true madman. 

Much to his dismay, eventually the moment of silence passed and white brows furrowed like a declaration of war. It'd sealed Bdubs’ fate that he was about to witness a witch-hunt for a bug in the system. A bug that, mind you, Bdubs can’t even begin to wrap his head around solving. 

There’re just too many components to the system for him to understand where someone would start with a task like that. Shulker loaders. Comparators. Target blocks, for some reason. And those were only the parts Bdubs could remember Etho mentioning last night! 

Like ripples in water the information all muddles into a murky pond meant to be an automatic brewing station. Some of those things he wasn't even supposed to understand yet- today had strictly been set aside for Bdubs to witness a demonstration and get a list of materials. 

But whatever, the Universe hates poor ol’ Bdubs and Etho had already dug a two-block hole into the wall to inspect his redstone before Bdubs could think to tease him about being washed up at that too. 

There hadn’t even been room to make the comment after Etho disappeared beyond the wall. The tell-tale echo of Etho working himself through the system’s steps aloud was enough to discourage any input from Bdubs. 

Not unless he wanted to get wrapped up in redstone hijinks, anyway. 

His cheek drags unceremoniously against the couch as he turns his head to get a good look at where Etho had disappeared about an hour ago. Huh. Now that he thinks about it he hasn’t really heard that familiar voice in a hot minute. 

Brown eyes grow wide. He hasn’t heard Etho in that hot minute. 

The world around him spins in shades of dark brown in his hurry to straighten into a sitting position. Silence greets him all at once in a way that feels wrong- like something had exploded in his ear and the only hint that something was amiss was the absence of the rustle of leaves on a windy day. 

It’s never a good sign when Etho has nothing to say. 

Bdubs nearly stumbles in his haste to lean over the couch’s armrest and search for any sign of his companion. Green, copper bulbs flicker to his right- daring him to try the system again and claim that it’s fixed. 

But he won’t. Etho doesn’t need an excuse to recheck the entire system again. He just needs a bit of external dialogue to restart his internal one. 

Bdubs forces air into his lungs. “Ya’ sure a piston didn’t destroy a redstone line?” 

Much to his relief, there’s a noise beyond the wall of stripped jungle wood. It’s a frustrated grunt, though Etho’s tone is anything but. “The pistons aren’t close enough to do that...” 

Welp. There goes Bdubs’ only idea for what could be broken. Still, “Did a different system’s piston destroy it?” 

He doesn’t hide the way he preens beneath the soft chuckle of “this guy” that filters through the wall. Then, much louder, “The redstone’s fine, ‘dubs. Nothing’s broken.” 

His eyes roll. “Pfft, yeah. Right. Whaddya’ doing back there then? Horsing around?” 

“Definitely feels like it.” Even beneath the careful tone of neutrality, Bdubs knows frayed strands of patience when he hears them. “Might need a redstone genius to fix this one.” 

Without his permission his shoulders sag. Aw crud, now he’s in for it. Compliments from Etho are a dime a dozen- more of a call for help rather than free praise for Bdubs to gobble up. 

He sighs. Great. Just great. Now if he tries to take a nap he’ll just feel guilty about doing so. Oh, the sacrifices he makes for poor Etho’s sanity. 

Much to the complaints of his joints, Bdubs drags himself from the warm, tempting embrace of the couch. He totally doesn’t trip on his first step to the wall either. Nope. He’s far too graceful and superior to do that. 

When he slips beyond the hole in the build’s wall, Bdubs can’t help but pause to take in just how spacious the backroom feels. It isn’t the usual compact style Etho gravitates toward- the way he fills space until only an ender pearl can get him around the machinery. 

Guilt gnaws unpleasantly at the lining of his stomach. Etho must’ve dug out everything while Bdubs was half-asleep on the couch. 

“Bdubs?” comes Etho’s voice, low and echo-y and yep - with his head shoved into the hopper at the farthest end of this...contraption. There’s a metallic clink and the familiar spikes of Etho’s hair fall into the hopper as well. 

His headband must’ve gotten loose. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” 

“Huh,” he says. Like he’d thought Bdubs had already left. “You didn’t happen to bring Mumbo with you, did you?” 

A feigned stormy look passes through his face even without an audience to see it. “Oh yeah, very freaking funny. Ya’ gonna put me to work or not?” 

“Check that hopper for me?” 

Much to Bdubs’ dismay Etho doesn’t point to any of the eight hoppers within their vicinity. Which can only mean he’s expected to check them all. Hallelujah. 

Still, he moseys his way over to the hopper directly beside Etho. It’s the best place to start; he’ll just make his way down the line from there. “What am I looking for?” 

“Anything wrong,” he supplies. Y’know, helpfully.  

A snarky comment stalls in his throat the moment Etho finally lifts his head from the hopper. Wisps of white hair curl over his eyes and a quick glance proves Bdubs’ original theory correct. Etho’s headband is looped around his neck, not unlike a necklace. 

Bdubs forces the laughter from his voice, aiming for something more genuine. “You running a fashion show back here?” 

Etho’s brows have only just furrowed when he catches sight of his headband. Unlike Bdubs, he doesn’t hide his amusement. “What, this? Ehh, it’s a bit gaudy. Maybe too much I think." 

"Right,” Bdubs agrees. “Too much for the neck, juuust enough for the hair.” 

Etho’s expression morphs into something more focused whilst he ties his headband back into its rightful place. Y’know, not that Bdubs is ever wrong per se, but in that moment he can’t help but sink into how true his statement is. 

It’s juuust enough for Etho’s hair. 

Without much else to say, Bdubs taps into the grey interface of his designated hopper. It’s way less dramatic than sticking his whole face in it- Etho must have really been in his head to not have believed the interface when it said nothing was there. 

Speak of the devil, a distant zip of an ender pearl marks Etho’s leave. Likely to fiddle with some other area of the machine. 

Bdubs nods to himself. Lucky for Etho, “Good Ol’ Sane Bdubs” is at his side now. And “Good Ol’ Sane Bdubs” says this hopper has nothing in it. 

He even slips a piece of stone from his inventory into the hopper, watching as it disappears from the interface and presumably into the next hopper in the isle. Everything seems good on this part of the machinery. 

Bdubs taps into the next interface in the hopper line. As expected, the stone isn’t in this one either, leaving the interface blank and in wait for the next item to come by. It’s as simple as simple gets- not that this is too hard of a redstone concept to understand. 

Item goes in from the top. Item goes out the way the hopper’s facing. Basic stuff. 

Still, Bdubs slips another piece of stone into the interface and watches it disappear. 

He repeats the same steps for the next six hoppers, stopping only when he finally gets to where his blocks of stone have compiled themselves into a small pile of seven. From there the hopper likely connects to the dropper- or dispenser? Eh, it doesn’t matter -below it, and Bdubs carefully scoops the stone away. He even checks the hopper below his feet just to be thorough. 

It’s got nothing but blaze powder within it. Lots and lots of blaze powder. 

From there he walks himself all the way back to the end of the contraption and accesses the dispensers below the line of hoppers. 

Each one is filled with nine stacks of a potion item. Nether wart. Bottles of dragon’s breath. Gunpowder. Glowstone. Redstone. Fermented spider eyes. Golden carrots. 

His brows furrow. At least it isn’t an issue with materials then. 

Welp, not a thing he’s been instructed to check looks or behaves out of place and it’s just as irritating as it is encouraging. He hasn’t gotten a tutorial on how this stinkin thing works yet and while this is certainly helping him understand the machine’s components, it’s forming a lot of doubt on whether he wants to make one of these. 

There’s nothing wrong with handcrafting potions, right? It might be a lot of work for a shop that could very well need constant restocking, but even that’d be more efficient than sinking hours into a single bug fix. 

Hm, maybe it’s something worth worrying over in the future. For now he’s stuck helping a circus with monkeys that aren’t even his. 

He dutifully walks himself back toward the brewing stand and toward the double chest beside it. Checking it is all he can do to help Etho; everything else here might as well be broken in his eyes. 

Bdubs’ fingers have only just begun to lift the double chest’s lid when he hears the soft breaking of a torch. Like a stone his heart sinks deep into the confines of his chest, a bead of sweat already on his brow. 

...he didn’t break something by opening this, right? 

A moment later the soft echo of a torch being placed filters through his ears and his chest heaves out a startled laugh. Ok-ay, just Etho checking circuitry. 

Even still he can’t shake the subtle tremble in his hands when he refocuses back on the contents of the chest. It’s got dozens and dozens of stacks of empty bottles, all lying in wait to be used. Extensive, Bdubs notes, like he isn’t talking about Etho “Over-Prepared” Slab himself. 

Again, at least the problem isn’t to do with a lack of supplies. 

He carefully guides the lid closed before he turns back toward the hopper line. There’s another hopper poised higher than he stands now that he hasn’t checked- one that he now realizes is the hopper that the others feed directly into. 

Eh, might as well check it while Etho’s busy giving him heart attacks. 

Bdubs tries not to think too hard about the fact that he has to stand on the tips of his toes to reach this hopper in particular. Even then he still has to wave his hand around for the interface aaaand - ah ha! He’s got it. 

The grey interface lights up with a flash and Bdubs' head tilts higher to look at it. Three slots of single pieces of dirt. Mhm. One slot with nineteen pieces of dirt. Mhm. 

Distantly he recognizes it as an item filter- one of those redstone mechanics he can understand, though there’s hardly a soul in the Universe that can't. They practically give those tutorials to preschoolers. 

Okay, well maybe he doesn’t understand why item filters work. Just that they do. 

Huh. Y’know, on a totally unrelated note, is putting dirt near consumables a health code violation? He’s almost certain it is. Did Etho not have stone on hand when he configured this? Better question: has Bdubs drank a potion from this thing?

He certainly hasn’t borrowed any, but he had been over to make dinner and discuss the system with Etho last night... 

He swallows thickly. They hadn’t exchanged potions. Bdubs would’ve remembered engaging in antics like that. They’d just exchanged friendly banter between sips of wine and bites of lemon-drizzled salmon. 

...he’d had a cup of water. A cup of water that, now that he thinks about it, had felt a little gritty. 

Judas priest he better be misremembering. 

Bdubs forces himself to refocus on the hopper interface and not on the worms he might’ve drank last night. The item filter looks as normal as normal could be and he recounts the items once more. 

Three slots of single pieces of dirt. Check. One slot with nineteen pieces of dirt. Check. One spare slot. Check. 

His brows furrow and he rocks onto his heels. “Hey, Etho?” 

A block breaks somewhere above Bdubs. “Yep?” 

“’S this one supposed to look like this?” 

With a zip of an ender pearl Etho wastes no time appearing at his right side. Much to his dismay Etho doesn’t have to stand on the tips of his toes to reach the hopper of interest. In fact, there's even a slight bend at his waist to better fit him in the tight space.

Bdubs can’t help but frown. Screw genetics and code and all that crud. 

Etho’s hand raises to rest beneath his chin as he inspects the cool metal and Bdubs wants to roll his eyes over the man’s theatrics. “This one?” 

Now his eyes roll. “No, the one at the end of the- yeah this one!” 

There’s a dull rattle as Etho grabs onto the hopper. Likely for a better look. Or to shove his face into like earlier. 

... 

“Huh.” 

Oh it definitely isn’t supposed to look like that. 

“Not sure what’d go in there but-” 

Etho’s shoulders suddenly tense and Bdubs swears he can hear the gears begin to turn in the other’s head. He doesn’t know which ones, just that they’re squealing at each other to get a move on. 

“Etho?” he prompts.

In another zip the man blips out of existence. Yep. Issue’s been found. 

Heavy footfalls echo beyond the wall and it quickly dawns on Bdubs that Etho had ender pearled out instead of walking out like a normal person. Typical Etho. Sinks hours into meticulous bug-searching only to rush to victory once the kink is found. 

Not a moment too soon Etho stoops again through the hole in the wall, now with a shulker box resting on his shoulder between his ear and bicep. It looks lightweight balancing there- deceptively so. 

Everything to do with potions might not be heavy, but the fact that it’s Etho’s shulker box is what feeds into Bdubs’ suspicions that it weighs more than he’s letting on. 

Etho doesn’t half-ass anything. Pranks. Redstone systems. Materials. 

If the guy’s got a shulker box, it’s overflowing with stacks of whatever item he’s looking for. And it weighs a ton. Not for the first time Bdubs considers the fact he’d probably look just as light on Etho’s shoulder. 

The thought shatters beneath the resounding thud that erupts when Etho unceremoniously drops the box onto the stone below. Huh, maybe the issue is more than just a missing item. 

And yet when the shulker twists open Etho only plucks a single piece of nether wart from its contents. Never mind then. It’s definitely just a missing item. 

One click later and Bdubs nearly startles at the hands that "guide" him back into the interior of the base, like Etho hadn’t meant for his redstone to be seen in the first place. The guy even plugs the hole with two stripped dark oak logs, leaving the heavy shulker where it’d been placed. 

He has half a mind to bark out a furious “Hey!” before it dies there on his tongue. Those mismatched eyes aren’t on him- aren't focused on the layers of performative anger just waiting for an audience. Instead, they flit between copper bulbs and the redstone lamp that registers the system as “on”.

Without direction, Bdubs sits back on the room's red couch.

“It should work now,” Etho says and Bdubs gets the feeling he's more-so telling himself than Bdubs. The next question, however, is aimed where it should be. “Any preference on potions, Bdubs?” 

His nose wrinkles. Yeah, no, he’s not getting any more grit or dirt in his mouth. 

“I don’t want none,” he chitters, anger seeping into his tone. “I saw the dirt in those hoppers, whaddya’ trying to do, make me Patient Zero or something?” 

“Oh it’s tempting,” Etho admits and it feels like heaven hearing the slight grin in his voice, even with the irate itch that prods at Bdubs’ nerves. There’s only so much of “Focused Etho” he can take before he misses their usual push and pull. “So tempting." 

“Well quit it,” he huffs. “I got better things to do than sit around all day and fix your machines.” 

“Better things, huh?” 

Bdubs pointedly ignores the mirth that writes itself over Etho’s face. He does have better things to do! Just because those “better things” also involve Etho to some capacity doesn’t mean they’re not better than bug fixing. 

“Yeah, better things,” Bdubs crows, pitching his voice high. “My redstone prowess can’t save your sorry butt all the time, I’d never get anything done.” 

Much to his dismay Etho’s words are nothing but another amused echo. “Redstone prowess.” 

Bdubs can’t decide whether he hates the way Etho always sounds like he’s heard the funniest joke in the Universe. 

“What are you, a broken record? Better things, redstone prowess, yada yada. Would ya’ give me my material list already!” 

Now that breaks Etho’s entertained expression, the man’s eyebrows shooting high. And yet his voice still sounds oh-so-giddy. “Ouch." 

Goodness sake, he’s so full of it. 

Bdubs can’t even call him out on it before Etho’s head tilts, curious. “The list? You didn’t come over with the shulker I asked for?” 

“I-” 

Etho’s head shakes, disappointed. “BDoubleO...” 

“Don’t you ‘BDoubleO’ me,” Bdubs retorts hotly. “How can I have the materials if you never gave me a freaking list!” 

“I did,” Etho says. Like a liar. “Last night." 

“There wasn’t no list! Quit your lying-” 

“And now you’re calling me a liar?” Etho sounds nothing short of scandalized. His hands slip into his pockets as he leans forward, his red eye slipping closed while the other pins Bdubs in place. “Snuck an extra glass of wine last night, did'ya?"

Bdubs’ swears he can hear his teeth crack. “Etho-” 

“Well,” his companion interrupts in a low drawl. “If you really did lose it then I guess I can write a new one. It’s gonna take me a second, though.”

All at once Bdubs forces his fists to unclench, smoothing his palms out across his jeans. Etho's leaning far too into this whole "lost list" bit- suspiciously so. The guy might be a troll but there's something else here lying beneath Etho's attempts to gaslight him. Or "ragebait" him, as Gem had put it not too long ago.

Something else is up.

“...you forgot to write it, didn’t you?”

“And be unprepared in front of the BDoubleO?” 

“Just as I suspected,” Bdubs declares. “You forgot."

At last Etho's gaze darts to the other side of the room and he breathes out a soft chuckle. "Okay yeah, I did."

"I knew it," he sings and swoons halfway onto the couch's armrest. "Chop, chop, then. That list ain't gonna make itself!"

He smugly watches the feigned incredulity return to Etho's features. "You're not gonna help a guy out?"

"No way, man," comes Bdubs' own laugh, "I'm the one outta my element here."

This time there's no attempt from Etho to poke at Bdubs' simmering anger. He merely shrugs and turns, likely to go fetch a book and quill.

Bdubs guesses it won't take long to make the list; not with the handful of pieces Bdubs had been able to glimpse at earlier. Giddy with victory, he'd even go as far as to say that he could try putting his own list together and get pretty darn close. It's just the whole "putting it together" that invites trouble to his doorstep.

Bdubs feels the slight tug of a smile pull at his mouth. Y'know, maybe he'll always feel stranded whenever the whole redstone mumbo-jumbo comes up and it won't matter how many times he proclaims his redstone prowess or occasionally fiddles with an item filter. He won't ever feel as confident as Etho seems to feel with it.

But when he swings his legs onto the cushions of Etho's dark red couch and breathes that familiar tinge of redstone, he'd be damned if he said he didn't feel right at home just being in the center of something so Etho.